


Enemy territory

by Jackeline Harkness (Jackeline_Harkness)



Series: Survival [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Tony Being Tony, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackeline_Harkness/pseuds/Jackeline%20Harkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is, undoubtedly, one of the best spies in the whole world. She is capable of swift assassination and complex conspiracies, or of subtle actions that can fix a royal mess.</p><p>Like a true pro, she uses her finely honed skills in her life, as well. Especially when it comes to helping friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enemy territory

**Enemy territory.**

In the whole world, there were a lot more spies than people imagined. There were spies in some of the most unthinkable places, doing their jobs in subtle or bold ways, while posing as something else or operating openly. Taking into account the whole globe, that meant a _damn lot_ of spies.

Good spies, though, were rarer than red diamonds, and for all that Natasha might now and then regret some things she’d done, being among the best spies in the globe was always something she was proud of. The ninja skills, as Tony liked to call them, were a fraction of it, but mostly it had to do with information. A part of it was bluffing, pretending to know everything there was to know and then some; another, however, was simple observation.

Natasha was excellent at observation.

So of course, she noticed it as soon as the tower’s newest and broodiest pair came into the kitchen: Rumlow was trying his damnedest to act normal, and failing, going through the motions of grabbing breakfast along with everyone else with a subtle shift in his body language challenging everyone to say something about the frankly impressive shiner on the left side of his face. Then there was Barnes, following his lover around like a kicked puppy, keeping close to him as if to reassure himself that he wasn’t actually being pushed away.

Natasha could read the whole thing as a book: Barnes had been having a nightmare, bad enough to wake him up or at least to wake Rumlow up and then make him shake Barnes awake. Still caught in the nightmare, the Winter Soldier had attacked his lover and given him the black eye, or at least, he’d shoved him hard enough to make him fall on his face. Barnes was feeling guilty about it, and Rumlow was taking it like a champ and trying to convince him that it was alright. It was a familiar enough situation for a group of PTSD poster-children that everyone took a look at them, reached an immediate conclusion, and decided to give them space.

It would have been alright after a while, if not for the fact that Barnes kept seeking reassurance from the former Hydra commander, and Rumlow was obviously having a hard time letting him have it. More precisely, he was having a damn hard time receiving his tiny displays of concern and affection in front of the rest of the team.

As it was, Tony, always unable to stay still for long, was proposing a childish game made apt for adults by virtue of adding innuendoes and such other things to it, so the way Barnes leaned against Rumlow only to have him tense up and then unsubtly slide away didn’t go unnoticed. Barnes looked as if he’d been punched in the gut for about half a second; then his face closed off in a mask worthy of the legendary Russian assassin he’d been, he rose from the couch and left the floor like a gush of wind.

“Ok, if someone else really doesn’t want to play, you don’t have to leave, either,” Tony said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Fuck,” Rumlow gritted out, and went to the elevator as well while everyone’s eyes followed him.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be up for that after what just happened,” Tony commented, because he could never keep his trap shut.

“Fuck you, Stark,” the STRIKE captain said and disappeared into the elevator without ever looking back.

Steve shot the billionaire a _look_.

“What? The Buckster left before I had said anything, so you can’t pin that on me.”

Natasha turned at the same time that Clint did and exchanged a knowing look with him. She gave him a nod: _I’ll deal with it._ He answered with a lopsided grin: _if you need backup…_

There was a good reason they made such a good team.

Bruce looked at Natasha, then at Clint, then back at Natasha, and then obviously decided that he didn’t want to know.

With the latest reformed assassins gone, Thor somewhere in Europe with his girlfriend, Tony acting offended and gone to his workshop and Bruce following him, the common floor was suddenly not as busy as it had been just a couple of minutes before.

“Movie?” Clint suggested.

“Sure,” was Steve’s sighed answer.

“Nobody blames you for that, Rogers. Everyone knows that Tony’s still a five year old, regardless of the silver hairs.”

Clint snickered at Natasha’s comment, while queuing up a random horror movie.

“You can think of him as being perpetually eighteen, if that makes you feel better with yourself,” the archer said as he flopped down on the couch, in the perfect position for the redheaded assassin to rest her ankles on his lap.

“Some things never change,” Steve shrugged, obviously not really bothered by the dramatic temper tantrum. “I’m thinking Starks are one of such things.”

“Are you actually alright, Cap? Having been in contact with two of them in your lifespan, I mean.”

“You know me, Clint. I like having excitement in my life,” that got a laugh even from Nat, even if hers was a lot more discrete than Clint’s. “Besides, it’s good for everyone that he’s down there. Tony’ll burn his excess energy and feel better with himself, and we might all get upgraded equipment.”

Natasha commented about that, then actually paid attention to the movie while keeping careful track of the time. A while later, she got up, stretching before making her way to the elevator.

“Something wrong? There’s about ten minutes left,” Clint said, head tossed back over the back of the couch to look at her upside down.

“Just something I need to do. If I know my scientists well, Tony must be already caught up in something, which means Bruce won’t be with him anymore.”

Clint gave her a wink, then returned to watching the movie.

“Do I wanna know?” Natasha heard Steve ask right before the elevator’s door closed behind her.

As soon as she stepped into the floor she shared with Bruce, she had to look down for a moment to hide her smile. Bruce was scribbling something on a notebook while Rumlow sat at the same table, furiously cleaning a gun that was already gleaming. She noticed the icepack lying by him, still wrapped in a towel. She knew her people well.

“Hey, fellas.”

Rumlow grunted. Bruce looked up from his work to give her a smile.

“How’s your face, Brock?”

The former Hydra operative shot her a glare as if she had violated some holy convention by acknowledging the bad bruise.

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure. I might’ve seen some of those, actually,” she walked around the table to stand next to Bruce.

She watched as the former Hydra operative started putting the gun back together.

“I’m sure you know that we’re all familiar with nightmares.”

“Yeah, it kinda comes with the job, doesn’t it?” but he still sounded guarded, and still refused to meet her eyes.

“Brock,” and she almost smiled when her tone got him to look at her this time, putting the gun down on the table. “This place. Tony might own it, and it might seem like the opening of a really bad joke at times. But it’s home.  We’re not in enemy territory; we can be ourselves in here,” that said, she leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on Bruce’s lips.

Rumlow picked the icepack back up and pressed it against his face, apparently finding the table fascinating all of a sudden as the couple in front of him had a quick, hushed conversation.

Natasha then went to grab something from a cupboard and, as if that had been the only reason for her dropping by their apartment, went back to the elevator.

“Romanoff,” Brock called when she was almost to the door.

“Mh?” came her soft prompting.

“Thanks,” and the gun was being taken apart again.

Natasha returned to the common floor, still smiling, to find that Clint had queued a run of sci-fi, but was waiting for the others and entertaining himself by throwing popcorn into the concave shapes of a nearby modernist sculpture.

“Mission report?” he grinned.

“I think it’ll be fine,” she looked around. “Where’s Steve?”

“Went to get Tony. And order food.”

Natasha nodded and reclaimed her spot on the couch.

By the time Bruce and Brock returned to the common floor, there was a stack of pizza boxes on the low table, Tony was gesturing with a slice of pizza while trying to convince Steve that it was actually reasonable to fly to Naples just to have a date with real Italian pizza, and Bucky was sitting quietly on a couch, pressed against the armrest as if he wished he could be swallowed by the furniture. It was obvious he really hadn’t wanted to be dragged back there, but even the best part of a century spent in the ice and being brainwashed wasn’t enough to make him able to say no to Steve.

Bruce went calmly to join Natasha and Clint, digging through the boxes to find his favorite… and Brock glared at him as if the scientist had betrayed him. Just for a moment.

Natasha watched him silently out the corner of her eye as he stood there, tense as a live wire and obviously trying to decide what to do with himself. She saw him exhale a silent sigh, and then she turned to accept the slice of pizza Bruce was handing to her.

She watched him go to casually grab a couple of slices of pizza, and how he almost smiled at her before retreating back to the couch Bucky had claimed for himself and his dark cloud of a mood. She didn’t see him approach his lover almost hesitantly, or sit next to him rigidly and wait a few seconds before offering him the food. She did hear the quiet sigh of something that was almost defeat, and the soft groaning of the couch as they both shifted their positions before the almost inaudible sound of a gentle kiss.

Clint, keeping an eye on the other couch via the reflection on a floor-to-ceiling window, nudged her. With a smug smile, she bumped the offered fist, leaned a bit to the left so her shoulder touched Bruce, and went on to eat her pizza.

Being one of the best spies in the world was full of small but significant victories.

 

 


End file.
